It took me a week (after finding Ellen Gillard) to actually pluck up the courage to make contact with Emma's auntie. Handily, she had a phone number I could use on Facebook, as her work number (for her job as a florist) was handily posted on her timeline to use when I was ready.
Today I was ready.
What had made me finally decide to do the deed was Luke. His behaviour had changed again.
It had happened so suddenly – all in the space of a few hours. In the morning, he had woken up a happy boy and when he arrived home from school, he had been bursting with excited energy to see Bella, but when I put him to bed that night, he was an entirely different child. Again, when I'd asked him what was wrong, the answer had been "nothing". I felt as if life had gone around in a great, big circle.
At first, I'd thought it would pass, that he would be alright again in the morning. But Luke was gone. When he came down for breakfast, there was no spring in his step, no cheerful morning chatter and no sign of anything remotely near to neutrality in his face. Clearly, I'd been wrong in thinking that Bella had made him happy again. He was quite the opposite.
The first time I tried ringing Ellen, the phone was left unanswered. I was tempted to leave a message, but thought announcing I had adopted her sister's daughter was something a bit too intense to find among requests for bouquets of flowers. Plus, I didn't know how she would take the news. She had clearly not wanted to continue making contact with her niece, as Amanda had told me "it's quite sad really, but none of Emma's family wanted to take her on," so she may have refused to call me back, or recorded my number so she knew to never answer it.
In the evening, when the children were safely in bed and Simon was glued to the television, I tried calling her again.
One ring, two rings, three, four, five and-
"Hello, Ellen Gillard speaking." Her tone was bright and cheery, clearly used to dealing with customers excited for their wedding anniversary or Valentine's Day. "How may I help you?"
"Hello Ellen," I began, nerves swimming in my stomach. "I am Laura Rayne. I'm afraid I haven't rung you to discuss flowers. I just need to talk to you about Emma."
There was a short pause before she put the phone down.
Great! That was just what I needed.
I tried ringing her again – three times to be precise – but she refused to pick up. Eventually, I decided to try a different tactic and called her from my mobile instead.
"Hello, Ellen Gillard speaking. How can I help you?" the warm, breezy voice was back again.
"Please don't put the phone down," I spurted. "I just want to talk – I won't ask you to do anything."
"Oh really?" her cheery voice had been replaced by one that was sarcastic and bitter. "I know what you social workers are like. You want me to meet Emma, then, next minute, you're asking me to adopt her. Well, you know what, I don't want her."
"I'm not a social worker," I explained. "I'm Emma's adoptive mother."
"What?" she exclaimed, before seeming to relax again. "So what do you want, then?"
"I want to find out about Emma's mother."
"Huh?"
"I want to meet her," I elaborated. "I need to find some answers about Emma's past."
"No, no, no." I could practically see her shaking her head. "You don't want to do that. Believe me, you don't."
"I've heard she's in hospital," I pushed.
"I suppose you could call it that."
"What do you mean?" I was getting confused and frustrated over her lack of help. "Is she still alive?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"Well, can you tell me where she is then?" I was determined to get an answer from this stubborn woman. "I really want to meet her."
"What's wrong with you?" She growled.
"Please just tell me where she is."
"Okay then," she began. "But you ain't gonna be meeting her any time soon if you've got any sense left in that stupid head of yours, believe me, 'cause the bloody nutter's locked up on a mental ward."
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